When they finished that, too, we clapped again; she again whispered something to the guitarist, he put down his guitar, and it was clear that the show was over.81

Even before I could grasp what was happening, I saw her coming towards me.

“And who are you?”

“I sometimes wonder that myself,” I replied, hoping I hadn’t mistaken the tone. But there wasn’t much choice. I could hardly state my particulars: I’m Guido Guerrieri, twenty-four years old (but almost twenty-five), a law graduate, a trainee prosecutor, I don’t know what I’ll do when I’m grown up and I don’t even know if I want to grow up.

“Ah, a philosopher. Very good. Are you a student of our host?”

“You mean where girls are concerned?”

She laughed. “Why don’t you go and get me a glass of wine?”

I stood up too quickly, went to get the wine (a whole bottle, just opened, so as not to be forced to interrupt the conversation again), and when I returned I found her on the sofa. She patted her hand on the cushion next to her, as you do with children or animals. I poured the wine and sat down obediently.

“I don’t yet know your name.”

“Guido.”

“I had a boyfriend named Guido. He was quite forgettable. But maybe I shouldn’t let that prejudice me.”

“Guido’s a cover name. I can’t tell you my real name, it’s classified.”

“So you’re witty too, Guido.”

I’d have liked to ask her what that “too” meant, but she didn’t give me time.

“What do you do in life? Please don’t tell me you’re about to graduate with a thesis on the relationship between Kierkegaard and the philosophy of Jaspers, or something like that. I don’t think I could bear it.”82

“I already graduated, with a thesis on criminal neglect. I think that’s even less bearable. If you like, I can leave right now.”

“Oh my God, are you a lawyer? How did you end up here?”

We continued chatting and drinking and smoking. We finished the bottle and grabbed another. Which is why from a certain point onwards my memories become vague. I couldn’t testify with any reliability as to what I said and what she said. Partly because I was distracted by her proximity, her barely perceptible perfume, the contact established every now and again, apparently casually, between our bodies.

I do remember, though, that she laughed a lot and that I thought it was a laugh that spelled trouble, and that I wanted to get in trouble, as soon as possible.

After a while she looked at her watch, said she was late, that it was possible she was expected somewhere else.

Before I could reply she stood up, gave me a kiss on the lips, actually a lingering one, and left.